


The Little Girls of Lakeside, Book I: Little Girls Fucking Other Little Girls

by AllisonCollier



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Lesbian, Lesbian Sex, Little Girls, Pedophilia, Underage Sex, pedo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28556028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllisonCollier/pseuds/AllisonCollier
Summary: One summer, four preteen girls tenderly begin to explore their own bodies, each other's bodies, and their imaginations, growing from normal, happy little girls all the way to absolutely hardcore preteen lesbian nymphomaniacs. Their spectacular body positivity and inventiveness leads to the creation of their penultimate, favorite sex game—an elaborate lesbian sex fantasy with its own magical language—and a particular set of circumstances turns that game loose like wildfire on the adult lesbian world as a mysterious, orally cultivated game of undeniable sexual joy.This 30-chapter book is the first in a sprawling trilogy: The Little Girls of Lakeside. I may never finish it, but I'll certainly try. It is a slow burn massive epic of pedophilic sapphic erotica. It will be my great work, my opus. Please tell me what you think of it so far.The Little Girls of LakesideBook 1: Little Girls Fucking Other Little GirlsBook 2: Little Girls Fucking A Lot of Other Little girlsBook 3: Little Girls Fucking Everybody
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Besties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a taste of what's to come, the story begins. Becca, 12 years old, and her best friend in the world Christy, just recently 10 years old, do what they always do after school: tear off all of their clothes and play, all by themselves at Becca's house. Becca wants to do body paints. Christy paints somewhere a little private.

Once upon a time in a teenage girl’s bedroom, sometime around midnight in late June, 2017...

“Fuck.”

The video had ended again.

Terri—19 years old and naked, legs spread wide in her desk chair, feet propped up on the desk—reached out to the mouse with sticky wet fingers to play the 30 minute video for the third time before getting back to her own sweaty, breathless masturbation. She had been edging for over an hour now.

Click.

On Terri’s secret video from her own secret hidden camera planted in her little sister’s bedroom, recorded just hours earlier, her 12-year-old sister Becca was naked on a king size bed with three other naked little girls—Becca’s 10-year-old best friend Christa and their 10-year-old miniature-Amazon-women twin friends Lissa and Missa. All four of them were slick with shiny oil, rubbing their bodies all over each other in a messy knot of preteen sexual mania. They made little noises, little grunts of pleasure, and now and then they would each look up and see themselves on Becca’s gigantic HDTV, approve of whatever they were looking for, and return to their sex.

They called it ‘practice.’

Christa got off the bed—this was Terri’s favorite part of that day’s video—and went off-camera to get her giant Nalgene. She came back over to the bed, one hand on her hip and the other tilting the Nalgene back to take a long drink. The other three went at it, licking and kissing, rubbing and humping. Slurping. Eating. Christa bent down and picked up an oil bottle and squirted some onto one of the twins—Terri couldn't tell them apart at this angle. Christa dropped the oil bottle and rubbed the oil into the other girl, then looked over her own slender shoulder and slid the same hand down her ass crack, pushing two fingers into her wet asshole with a noticeable wince. Somehow content with whatever it was she had just checked on, she tossed the Nalgene away and jumped onto the bed, a playful little girl, and threw her soft little child mouth into Becca’s upturned pussy. One of the twins’ elbows pumped fast, doing something to some body part of one of the other girls, the actions' details lost in the dark tangle of shiny, taught limbs and torsos.

Terri's tongue hung out of her mouth in perverse ecstasy as she watched this thing, this holy grail of pornography, all hers. Only hers.

Four wet little girls in a darkened bedroom cheerfully, almost casually participating in an absolutely hardcore lesbian fuckfest.

Terri fucked herself harder, her fist in her sparsely hairy teenage asshole and a vibrating dildo buried in her fat pussy, until she came. She cried hysterically, it was that powerful of an orgasm.

**********

Let's rewind a bit. There's no way that's realistic, you must be saying to yourself. Right?

I want to tell you a story.

It’s a wonderful story about love and friendship, a story about trying new things and trust and courage. A story about summer and youth. A story about fun and freedom.

It’s the story of how four little girls—Christa, Becca and their twin best friends Lissa and Missa—took themselves from a few innocent licks and kisses, to their own exhilarating games of child sexual exploration, all the way to untethered preteen lesbian nymphomania, and beyond.

A story about little girls fucking other little girls.

**********

To tell it correctly, though, we have to start at the right place—we can’t just jump right into the juicy parts, we have to start before that. Before it really got going. Before summer vacation; before the party; before the wars and the games and the names; before Badgo; before lala; before The A’s—before all of it.

To really get from A to Z—to truly grasp how three 10-year-olds and a 12-year-old went from typical friends hanging out watching YouTube, singing along to pop songs, giggling about twerking and playing in the pool; all the way to this new kind of friendship—don’t you have to start at the very beginning? Isn’t the whole crazy story of how it happened the best part?

The most fundamental thing to understand is that Christa and Becca both grew up in a particular kind of family. Their families, and very soon Lissa and Missa’s family, were nudists.

What does that mean? Well, ever since the summer Christa turned four, their summers were spent completely naked most of the time. In the house; at the pool; at barbecue parties; playing outdoor games; watching movies; even going on vacation, where they usually all went together to sprawling nudist camps and resorts and beaches. All three families’ large new mansions, in the Winding Woods development in Lakeside Township, were surrounded by tall greenery and supremely high vinyl fencing. Everything they did besides work and go to school they did naked. Terri, Christa's 19-year-old sister, had been 10 when their family started, and while it didn’t take too very long for her to feel comfortable, it came as natural as ever to Becca, then a three-year-old who just did not want to wear clothes.

Christa and Becca never thought twice about it. They just lived naked, and they begrudgingly tolerated clothing when they were forced to get dressed. Both sets of parents had raised their children in a similar way, with intentionally body-positive attitudes and without religion. These kids did not have a single negative feeling about a single centimeter of their bodies. They were confident, outgoing and happy, and most important of all kind.

What all of these girls never knew was that their parents belonged to another lifestyle, too: they were all bona fide, raging, sex-addled swingers. While this doesn’t have much to do with the girls’ journey into depravity, it does indicate some kind of perverse vein running through their bloodlines. Would these grownups have been so surprised to find out that their perfect little girls—laughing fairy-children with shampoo-smelling hair—were fucking each other in a frenzied sex squad all summer? These were all freaky, horny people, and that inherited quality drove what we’ll soon find out was the most perfect, most wonderful and rarest of storms fate has ever graciously provided the Earth, a pedophile’s dream of dreams: a boundless lesbian sex club for preteen girls.

This story could start in January of that wild year, really, when Christa first noticed that Becca’s body was changing. Or it could start a year before that, when Becca’s dad got a new job that kept him from coming home at 4:30, giving the two girls way more privacy every day. You could even possibly start it when Christa was 7 years old, naked and soaked in sweat, humping her little-girl-sized plush bear late at night, experiencing a shocking burst of orgasm for the first time in her little life, laying there dazed and wet and terrified, then doing it again an hour later. It could start at any number of places.

We will begin this story in late April, however. That miraculous first step by the pool.

Come with us. Come with me and the girls.

You’re invited.

**********

The average after-school scene went a little something like this: around 3:15, Becca got off the bus from Green Lane Middle School and waltzed into her lonely giant house, shed her clothes after the front door closed behind her, went to the bathroom and then stole off to hang around until her best friend got there. The house would be all theirs until 6:00 or so, when her sister and mom usually got home. Maybe Becca would go for a swim, maybe she would lay on her bed and watch YouTube, maybe she would comb her hair and admire herself in her floor to ceiling giant mirror; who knows?

Another thing to explain here before we begin. Christa had gone by the name Christy (and Lissa and Missa had gone by Lissy and Missy) before Becca started The A’s. We’ll get to what that means, I swear.

Away we go.

Today, on a sunny Thursday in late April, Christy bounced off her bus from Lakeside Elementary School around the same time, 3:15ish. She wore classic white Converse sneakers, tiny jean short-shorts and a long-sleeve navy skin-tight t-shirt with open shoulders and her skinny midriff just barely peeking out. She sported a bright red and purple friendship bracelet on one wrist, some hair ties on the other, a diamond ankle bracelet, a cheap mall-store choker, oversized Ray-Ban aviator sunglasses and a pink cat ear headband flecked with sparkles. Both of her ears were pierced, and today’s earrings were tiny but shimmering. Her black backpack held very little inside. She bobbed down the street, away from her own house toward her best friend Becca’s. On the last stretch of sidewalk she skipped in long strides like only little girls do, all the way to Becca’s front door. She whipped out her big phone before going in.

She dialed her mom.

“Hey Mommy, I’m at Becca’s.”

A lawnmower buzzed on some far off lawn. A dog barked in a backyard. Her mom’s voice mumbled some mom-type question.

“Good.”

Her free hand thoughtlessly undid the top button on her shorts, then slipped under her tight shirt, getting ready to pull it the heck off.

“Yeah, I will.”

She kicked one sneaker aimlessly on the ground.

“Okay. Bye, I love you.”

She slipped the phone into her pocket, opened Becca’s front door, let herself in, and closed the door firmly behind her.

Christy’s backpack, shirt, shorts, green-and-white polka-dot panties and cat ears were off in literally two or three seconds. Poof! Like they had never been there in the first place—like magic. Nudists, and especially their little children, are professionals at simply ripping off their clothes at the drop of a dime. Converse sneakers, however, are the thorn in the nudist’s side—these things have to be undone and taken off. Christy did that, bending down with her bare butt grazing the door and loosening the laces, removing her feet and slipping right out of her socks. She moved her sunglasses to the top of her head and stood up.

Finally, after a long, annoying day of wearing stupid clothes, our stunning 10-year-old little baby girl was just how she liked it:

Completely naked.

While Christy stands there ever so briefly before legging off into the rest of the place, let’s take a good long look at her breathtaking little girl body. Every inch.

Christina May Whitaker, just one month past her 10th birthday in 4th grade, stood 4’5, about the size of the average 4th grade girl. Her dirty-blonde hair hung straight all the way down to the small of her back. Her sweet child face had pouty lips and plump little cheeks, and her light hazel eyes shone out over a cute button nose.

Like all beautiful preteen girls—and just preteen girls in general—Christy’s dainty child body simply screamed hot, wet sex. Everything about her was slender and petite, and puberty was years away. She was covered in nearly microscopic peach fuzz, and her form held no indication of femininity—her skinny, bony hips, perky butt, visible rib cage and absolutely flat chest could have been mistaken for a boy’s, and muscles were nowhere to be found. Her light pink nipples hardly stood out on pale white skin. A tiny outie belly button perched itself deliciously on her tight, flat tummy. Her hairless pussy was the completely undeveloped pussy of a little girl, with a tiny candy bean of a clit hidden somewhere inside (for the other girls to find later). She had a little dark thumbprint-sized birthmark on her supple left buttcheek, only three lovely kisses away from a perfect unblemished asshole just begging to be tasted and played with.

This was a child—total sexual perfection. Christy would indeed be a genuine little girl when she fucked for the first time. And for the second time and the third time. Heck, for the hundredth time. And my god what dazzling hardcore preteen fucking it would be.

Breathe, reader. Patience. I will show you all of it.

The thing to understand while we’re looking at Christy here is that she wasn’t tall, but she looked tall. Christy was all legs, gorgeous long 4th-grade legs that ended in darling cherub feet. She danced off on those legs and darling feet down the front hall and into the half-bath.

Protocol for any good nudist is to visit the bathroom when first entering a home to do anything they need to do, then get clean. Christy flew into the bathroom without shutting the door, pee-peed, wiped, then flushed. She hopped over to what looked like a second toilet, positioned herself over it, and pressed down on another lever—this was a bidet. She let the bidet wet her pussy and shoot a little into her ass just to make sure. Once finished, she washed her hands and flew out into the hallway, wiping her hands dry on her chest and stomach.

“Beccs!” she called. Her voice was soft and sweet, even when she yelled.

She stopped in the kitchen and got a drink of water from the fridge tap, standing up on tiptoes and stretching out one leg like a ballerina while the glass filled.

A muffled noise came from down in the basement. Christy went to the top of the basement steps with her glass and called out.

“You down there?”

“Yeah,” Becca called from way back somewhere. “Just looking for something.”

Christy moved to look out over the vast backyard from the kitchen windows, her mind wandering wherever little girls’ minds wander, taking little sips from the glass while her other hand slowly caressed her smooth stomach. The thing about being naked all the time, especially for Christy, was the caressing—she almost constantly caressed parts of her body. Her ass, her arms, her legs, her chest, even her prepubescent mound—everything. Just a harmless, horny habit that felt great. Looking out at the grass and the pool and the rest of the vast backyard, she softly sang some little girl song.

The sound of footsteps pounding up the basement stairs turned her around, and Becca herself came thumping up into the kitchen holding a big brown cardboard box. She shut the door behind her with a quick swish of her bare ass.

“Found it,” she said, and plunked the box onto the enormous kitchen island. Becca’s voice was hoarse and raspy. Just talking to her on the phone, you could swear she was about to graduate high school.

“What’s in there?”

“A surprise.”

Becca stood back, a little out of breath, put her hands on her hips and stuck her knee out. She looked at Christy’s body from head to toe, then smiled wide.

“Hi.” Her eyes sparkled.

“Heey-yyy,” Christy said, and they hugged, their naked bodies tight to each other, squeezing and rocking for a good 5 seconds.

Besties.

Before they get back to their surprise, let’s take a nice long drink of Becca’s fabulous middle school figure.

Rebecca Michelle Dyer, almost 12 and a half at the end of 6th grade, was in the full-blown early throes of puberty, thought she hadn’t gotten her first period yet. She was just one inch taller than Christy at 4'6, so she was short for her age. Her dark brown hair was stylishly messy, kid-slutty and expensive-looking, falling down to her upper back. Big brown puppy dog eyes sat atop an oval face with grand, puffy pussy-eating lips and a flat, exotic nose.

Becca’s body was different from her younger best friend. Her skin was tan and sun-dappled from her Italian side, and she had the perky, milky beginnings of what would eventually in adulthood become huge, voluptuous porn tits, with wide, bright pink nipples. Her scant baby fat rolled right down into a plump, bubbly ass that popped out with a fleshy bounce at any turn of her widening hips. Becca did have a few new pounds on her string bean best friend, but her stomach was just as flat. Her asshole was a chocolate shade darker than the rest of her skin, and there were tiny sprinklings of dark, course Mediterranean pubic hair in her armpits, on her jutting pubic mound and down her arms. Her legs were strong-looking and more defined by the day. She was a pubescent sexual paradise, ripe for other little girls to explore and play with.

What stuck out about Becca was her pussy. This was a pussy with fat, chewy lips and a larger clit than normal for 6th graders. Christy and the other girls would come to love pushing their little faces into that fat, juicy pussy and tonguing—

Allison! Get it together! Sorry, I lose flippin’ control when I’m describing their absolutely hypnotizing fuck-me bodies. Just wait until we get to the twins, oh God.

Christy watched Becca’s titties finish jiggling as she stepped back from their hug, just out of perfectly natural curiosity but with maybe a hint of something more.

Today, Becca wore a loose golden bracelet, pearl-color hoop earrings, and a jade toe ring.

“Remember last summer at that beach thing or whatever?” Becca said, opening the top of the box. “We all did body painting?”

“Wait,” Christy said. Her face lit up. “Ohmygod, seriously? We have the paint?”

“Yup.”

“Fun!” Christy clapped her hands on her legs.

They dug into the box and took out all of the paints and brushes.

“Wanna?” Becca asked.

“We will look _sooo_ cute,” Christy said.

They got all the paints out and Christy washed off the brushes. Becca fetched her own oversized round sunglasses from the dining room table, then walked up behind Christy at the sink. She leaned her budding titties into Christy’s back, reached around to her face and pulled Christy’s shades down onto her nose for her. Christy turned her head, made a flamboyant ‘mwah’ with her little lips, and turned off the spigot, wiping her wet hands on her chest, sides and legs.

They took all of their gear out to the patio, pushing against each other and giggling while they carried the stuff. Here, between the outdoor bar shack and the pool, there was a big round deck table with a giant white umbrella. Becca cranked up the umbrella and Christy laid out all of the paints and brushes on the ground.

“Lemme do you first,” Christy said.

“Do my stomach and, y’know, that stuff,” Becca said.

(That stuff? See. It’s coming. We’re getting ever so closer to our miracle.)

Christy put a towel down and got into a lazy kneeling position, her feet pointing out and her head on the level with Becca’s waist.

“Kay,” she said. She whipped her flowing golden hair back behind her, dipped a long brush into a red cup, then began taking little dabs at Becca’s belly button. Her left hand rested on her knee and her head tilted in concentration.

“Oooh,” Becca whispered. “Cold.”

Christy kept going. She was painting a sort of flower, now with yellow and then with green, using different brushes. A car honked way off in the distance, and a gentle hot breeze gusted a few strands of hair off of their heads. It was a beautiful day, easily hot enough to be comfortably naked outside.

Becca looked down at Christy, kneeling and painting her lower stomach. She thought Christy looked a certain way from that angle. Out of the blue, a particular word came to her mind. A single weird thrill shot through her stomach.

The word that had come to Becca’s mind was ‘obedient.’ Like, what a goofy word or whatever! Christy just looked like a good little girl down there, her feet spread out in the innocent kneeling position natural to all little girls.

Why had that single word felt so, like, good?

“Is this stuff, like, bad for you or whatever?” Christy asked, dabbing away.

“It can’t be, right? They, like, put it on little kids.”

“Oh yeah...” Christy said, her voice trailing off.

“Why? What’s up?”

Christy scootched closer and put her left hand on Becca’s right upper thigh for support. She replaced her current brush, picked up the brush in the blue cup, then began dabbing just above Becca’s pussy. She didn’t look up to see if it was okay, she just did it. Not a care in the world.

“Spread,” Christy said—it was a command.

Becca felt another weird thrill. I mean, what the heck?

“My legs?”

Christy made funny little kid ‘eh’ noises and smacked the insides of Becca’s thighs with her left hand until Becca dutifully re-positioned in a wider stance. Christy returned her left hand to Becca’s upper thigh, this time higher and with a harder grip.

Without any warning, Christy took their first critical step, not even realizing what it was or where it would take them. Little moments that snowball into some giant thing—that’s history for you.

Christy dabbed some of the blue paint smack onto the top of Becca’s pussy slit, almost directly onto her swelling clit, and started gently swirling the brush. Becca went rigid, then breathed, watching Christy’s slender wrist whirl and whirl, around and around.

Becca fought a crazy urge to do something she thought would look weird. She fought a crazy urge to grab her own boobies and squeeze them.

Jeeze! Like, what the F was happening here?

**********

That’s it. That’s the A. That’s where this story of little girls fucking other little girls got its spark—a measly paint brush. But little girls don’t just jump right into hardcore sex on a whim—they have to work themselves up to it very, very slowly.

That’s only A. We’ll get to Z, but we’ll have to fight our way through B, C, and all the others to get there.

Each tender tippy toe step better than the last.

I promise.


	2. Kids Bop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Christy used body paint to paint Becca's pussy, Becca wants more. Christy paints somewhere else on Becca with her little hands. Later on, they shower together to get the paint off, and Becca impulsively does something a teeny tiny bit naughty to her bestie. Christy won't easily forget it. That night, alone in their respective bedrooms, their afternoon's hidden horniness has consequences.

12-year-old Becca looked up from the sight of her best friend 10-year-old best friend Christy swirling blue paint right into her pussy and tried to think of something else. She could feel Christy breathing on her pubic hair.

Christy stopped and changed brushes. She returned to the same area, flecking dots of purple all over Becca’s upper inner thighs. It was a neat design.

“That tickles,” Becca said. “You dork.”

“Ah, just deal with it,” Christy said. “Can we, like, listen to some music?”

“Oh snap,” Becca said, “I’ll go get the speaker. Do you have your phone? I think mine’s dead.”

“In my clothies,” Christy said.

The gal-pals took off in a quick walk for the house, arms around each other’s waist, mashing their bodies together and matching footsteps like pals do. When they got to the sliding doors, Becca pulled the heavy door open and Christy stole another look at her budding titties, jiggling from side to side. What did they feel like? she wondered.

Once inside, they split up without a word. Becca sprinted up the rear steps to the second floor and pranced into her vast bedroom, where she took a few seconds to look at Christy’s paint job on her body in the massive mirror. She flipped her hair back and forth a few times, did a few sexy poses, grabbed her big Bluetooth speaker from her desk and hopped out of the room to return downstairs. Christy powered through the kitchen and the living room to their jumble of forgotten clothes near the front door, squatted down and searched for her huge Samsung Galaxy. She sat there on her haunches, legs spread wide, scrolling through her Spotify to find something they would enjoy. Her unused hand lazily slid down her leg to her inner thigh and stroked the intoxicating silky skin it found.

Becca saw her there, crept up and sat down behind her with her legs out, then pulled Christy back into her so that they were both sitting on the floor, their legs stretched out against each other and Becca’s mound pressed up against Christy’s butt. Their feet played with each other’s feet—nothing new for them, just normal bestie stuff. Becca leaned forward and put her head on Christy’s shoulder, then reached her arms around Christy’s slim waist holding the speaker out in front. Her nipples just barely grazed Christy’s back.

“Dude—I know what we should listen to,” Becca said, and she whispered something into Christy’s ear.

Christy burst out laughing and let herself sink back into Becca’s soft boobs and arms, then jumped up and spun around. She reached out a hand and Becca took it, rocketing herself off the floor and almost falling forward into Christy. They locked arms and marched out to the patio while Christy connected her phone to the Bluetooth.

Halfway back to their table, Christy halted and pulled Becca comically back towards her. She tapped something on her phone with finality and the speaker came to life. An older ‘Kids Bop’ version of ‘Party in the U.S.A’ came blasting out.

They both smiled and laughed, dancing and skipping to the music.

“So stupid,” Becca said.

“The real song though is still so good,” Christy said.

“Her new stuff like is so weird though, right?”

“Ew, yeah. Totes.”

When they got back to the table, Christy bent all the way over at the waist without bending her knees to get a brush on the ground—she was very flexible. Becca unwittingly got a full view of Christy’s entire business, and another tiny lightning bolt sizzled towards her pelvis. She felt suddenly thirsty.

“Do we have water?” Becca asked.

Christy, now standing again, rolled her eyes and turned, then bent way over for a second time, exposing her thin slit and tiny puckered asshole to the sky. Becca couldn’t help staring into them. Christy bent back up and handed her the glass.

“Now lemme do up here,” Christy said, posing like an artiste and circling her brush in the air around Becca’s chest as Becca took a few desperate gulps of water.

Christy had taken that first step just moments ago. Becca would be the one to take the next. Fair’s fair. An idea shot across Becca’s mind that caused her heart to skip a beat, and she blurted it out before her brain’s editors could get their nervous hands on it.

“Hand prints!” she said, almost yelling.

Christy dropped back and squinted behind her sunglasses.

“Huh?”

“Like, instead of painting a design or whatever, um, cover your hands in paint... and, like, y’know...” Becca licked her lips. “Give me handprints.”

Christy dipped her face down and looked over her sunglasses at Becca, and her mouth dropped open in disbelief. Becca couldn’t read the look. Once more, there was blurting.

“Put a hand print on them,” she said. “Y’know, like one hand print on each.”

Nothing, no change. ‘On each’ kind of rang out and hovered in the air: ‘on each, on each, on each.’ Then, cryptically, one side of Christy’s mouth crinkled up.

“Really?”

“Really what?” Becca said. Maybe she had gone too far.

“Can I?”

Becca breathed.

“Uh-huh.”

Christy grew a big grin, thought for a moment, then looked down at her paints and got to work. She knelt on one knee, placed the brush on the cement, and rolled her hands in paint, one in red and one in purple. She let just a little excess drip off, then stood up. As she brought her hands up, her tiny tongue squeaked out of her pursed lips just a teence, and behind her sunglasses her eyes went wide. Becca braced herself for whatever was about to happen.

“It will definitely, like... look cool,” Christy said.

She slowly, tenderly placed her painted hands on Becca’s perky titties and found that there was more to grip than she had thought there would be. In Christy’s barely-10-year-old hands, Becca’s boobies were honest-to-goodness handfuls.

Christy gently squeezed and massaged her best friend Becca’s titties, the milky tit-flesh sliding between her fingers with the wet paint. She just massaged and massaged and massaged. Becca looked up, over to the fence, trying to pretend it was simply her friend painting her to look cute and nothing more than that. She whispered the words to the current Kids Bop song, ‘I Gotta Feeling.’

“Tonight’s gonna be a good night,” she sang softly.

“I think I... messed up... um, the hand prints... thing,” Christy said, her voice trailing off again. She was now squeezing up from the bottom of Becca’s tits, catching Becca’s stretching nipples between her thumb and forefinger, completely lost in a tactile fever dream.

Becca saw that a droplet of saliva had formed in one corner of Christy’s mouth, and was about to drip.

The next song came on. Nearly five full minutes had gone by since Christy had begun playing with her first set of tits.

Becca looked down and saw what had obviously happened. Her entire chest was two solid colors. There were no discernible handprints. So much for that idea.

“Okay, um, that’s okay,” she said. “Just...” Her voice gave out—Christy was still squeezing and massaging, and it was hard to concentrate.

“Just, um, wash off... your hands off and..."

Christy squeezed and squeezed with her little 10-year-old hands. The droplet of saliva had become a little pool, and it dripped down Christy’s chin.

“...do a different cover, err, color on top with...”

Becca was fighting the good fight here, bless her heart.

“...on top of, uhh, the other... the color.”

Christy gradually stopped massaging, gave each tit one last heft from the bottom, and stood back, staring.

“Mm-hmm,” she said.

She walked to the edge of the pool and bent down to dip her hands in. She wooshed them around in the water for a few seconds, then pulled them out. The paint had not come off. What could she do?

“I know,” she said.

Christy stood up and returned to Becca, who was just trying to stay upright at this point after what had been a major sensory overload. Christy took her painted hands and put a little more paint on each one, then faced Becca again. Her innocent mood was back, and she rocked her hips to the beat of the current song, whispering the lyrics. Becca whispered them too.

She placed her left purple hand over Becca’s other tit, pressed it hard into the red flesh and gripped for a few seconds, then released. Over the red part of Becca’s chest she now had a rough purple hand mark. Christy admired her work, then did the same for the other tit. She stood back.

Ok, sure. Hand prints.

“My turn—now,” Becca said. There was a suspicious ‘frog in her throat’ kind of thing that had broken up her sentence, and she coughed to loosen it.

“My turn.”

Becca flipped her hair back, got down on her knees, selected a brush and dipped it in the pink color, which hadn’t been used yet. Christy stood across from her, but too far for Becca’s liking. She reached out and grabbed Christy’s leg where butt meets thigh and pulled her closer, then took up the brush and began painting her belly button. Christy closed her eyes and undid a hair tie off of her wrist, taking her long hair back behind her head and pulling it through the tie a few times to keep it out of Becca’s way.

They both sang quietly to the song that was playing, and Becca shook her hips to the beat. Her brush reached the top of Christy’s mound, and Christy just did what Christy does: something totally unexpected. She lifted one leg up and put her foot on the chair closest to them so that her knee was up high and way out—Becca now had complete, unfettered access to Christy’s entire pussy.

They didn’t speak, they just went with this new vibe—they couldn’t really have talked about it if they had wanted to. Not yet. Becca’s brush twisted and twirled on Christy’s inner thighs and lower mound. She glanced up at Christy and saw her face, her eyes closed and her features completely calm. Becca went for it.

She tenderly flecked the brush into Christy’s baby slit and painted its length in long housepainter strokes. Baaack and forth. Baaack and forth. She didn’t know how long it took. The minutes passed in some kind of moment outside of time. At some point, Becca realized how thirsty she was, and put the brush down.

“Oh my god, I need water,” she gasped.

Christy let out a long, hard breath. “Me too,” she said, opening up her eyes. “But what about... my boobies?”

Becca thought, Well, what about them? You don’t have boobs you nerd! but she didn’t want to hurt Christy’s feelings. They didn’t do that, not ever—they were best friends forever. She thought fast, and blurted again.

“Just press yours into mine and, like, some of the paint will go onto you!”

“Okay, maybe,” Christy said. She stepped up to Becca, and Becca took her by her arms and pulled her into her tits. Christy reached around Becca’s waist and pulled too. They pressed and wiggled as if applying a stamp, then stepped back and took a look at their work. Christy’s flat chest and little nipples had a faint echo of the paint on Becca’s titties.

“Is it cool?” Christy asked.

“Not good enough,” Becca said. Her mouth was bone dry, but she wanted to do one last thing. She whipped her hair back again and bent down, lathering her own hands in two colors, then stood up and placed her outstretched hands right over Christy’s flat chest.

“Push,” Becca said.

Christy leaned into Becca’s hands as much as she could, then stepped back as Becca pulled her hands away.

“What about now?” Christy said.

“Let’s go in the house and check it out.”

Christy skipped ahead and Becca walked to the sliding doors again. Christy opened the door this time, leaving a faint imprint of color on the handle, and let Becca go in first. She closed the door behind them and followed Becca right down the carpeted steps into the bright finished basement.

The Dyers’ basement was a sprawling maze of rooms the same area as the rest of the house. There was a narrow corridor with many doorways into small rooms. The corridor itself lead to a huge room at the back that we’ll get to later. One room they passed was a laundry room, another was a storage room with shelves of boxes reaching the high ceiling, another was a wine and cigar cellar and another was the room they entered. The overhead motion sensor light clicked on as they came in.

This room had some weird padded bench things, big metal hooks in the ceiling with nothing hanging from them, lights that hadn’t turned on with the regular lights and a cushy kind of floor padding. One wall to the side was a gigantic locked cabinet, and the other three walls were mirrors.

Christy had once asked Becca what this room was for, but Becca didn’t know. She had said something like: she thought her mom had said one time that it was going to be a fitness or a dance room, but that they hadn’t gotten around to using it or something. That had sounded good enough, and they didn’t wonder about it again. In fact, this was a special sex room—if the girls had been able to get into that gigantic cabinet, they would have been terribly confused, possibly frightened, and maybe even traumatized by the instruments and attire concealed within. As explained earlier, these were freaky, horny people.

They posed in front of the mirror, taking in the colorful designs on their nubile bodies.

“Oh man, water,” Becca said. She stepped to the doorway and spun around on one foot to face Christy. “Want some?”

“Sure,” Christy said.

Becca turned back around, then froze. She brought one index finger to her chin deep in thought, mumbling something about the basement sink and filters. Christy looked away from her own reflection and gazed at Becca’s big bubble butt. She had a lot of questions about puberty, but not a lot of initiative to actually ask them yet. When Becca made up her mind about whatever it was, she launched down the corridor towards the steps and Christy was left alone.

Immediately, Christy laid down on her back. She propped her feet way up, spread her legs against the mirror, bent her neck up so she could see her reflection, and took in Becca’s paint job on her inner legs and pussy. She just looked for a while, then rolled and stood up. Watching herself, she crossed her arms dramatically and spun completely around, pretending some little girl thing we’ll never know anything about.

When Becca came back down with the water, they posed a little bit more, commented on their work, then escaped upstairs to the den, where they used the jumbo HDTV there to dance along to some YouTubes, sang a few favorite songs at the tops of their lungs, and generally goofed around like preteen girls do when they’re best friends left to themselves and happy as clams. An hour passed. They ate some snacks, talked about whatever and laughed about a lot of dumb stuff. The simple joys of being young.

Five o’clock came around and Becca had a realization about the paint.

“We should get this paint off before you go. I don’t know if, like, it can mess up clothes and stuff.”

“I hate clothes.”

“Duh I know, but we can’t just not have them.”

“What did we do at the beach thingy?” Christy asked.

“Idunno,” Becca said, “took a shower?”

“I love your shower.”

Indeed, the Dyers’ biggest shower—in their epic upstairs bathroom—was like a shower you could have a party in. It was expansive.

Christy tossed her Ray-Bans on the floor near her scattered clothes and followed Becca up the steps to the second floor, catching a solid glimpse of Becca’s pussy and asshole. She noticed that Becca’s pussy looked kind of different from hers—she had just investigated her own in the basement and had a fresh frame of reference.

They got to the bathroom and Becca got out towels, then shut the door when they were inside.

“This shower is so humongous,” Christy said. ‘Oh, I have to pee-pee, though.”

“Pee after I get in,” Becca said. “I won’t look.”

Christy said nothing, just waltzed over to the toilet and planted herself on top, lazily spreading her legs. She watched herself start to pee. Just before Becca turned the bath faucet on she heard the tiniest tinkling sound come through from between Christy’s legs. Woops.

The water got to the right temperature and she switched over to the shower setting. Christy stepped into the shower and Becca handed her a yellow shower cap, then snapped on her own before hitting the water. This was not the first time these two besties had taken a shower together, but it would be the first for a few other things. Here, in fact, was the next step. That’s three in one day. Sometimes they come like that—out of nowhere, in twos and threes.

Becca had another of her ideas, but was nervous about asking. The hot water, though, filled her head—and Christy’s—with the wonderful fuzz of mild euphoria. Her idea just came out.

“Can you, um, help me wash? Like, I don’t know if I can get it all off.”

“Yep,” Christy chirped. “It’s like mega hard to get off, so you have to helpy me too.”

Ungh.

Becca was gonna get slippery and get squeezed and get touched and get fondled again, and it was safe, and she was super duper excited about it.

Christy got right to it, squirting body wash onto Becca’s upper chest and throwing her hands right into her new-old job: squeezing and massaging Becca’s titties. The paint began to crumble and wash away as she worked. They sang a song together, a new top 100 song, stumbling with some of the curse word parts and laughing. The washing moved down to Becca’s lower half, and Christy squatted down to get her hands into Becca’s stomach and legs.

We don’t go there yet, though—not _there_ -there. They’re not nearly ready.

As soon as her legs and stomach were washed off, Becca backed up and took care of her own pussy and all of that. Christy had stopped, too. They understood that there was a certain boundary, as far as hands go. So far.

Then they did Christy. She did her own chest quickly—there wasn’t much there—and Becca washed her stomach and legs. Then, Christy walked forward into the water, taking care of her own private area, though at this point between the two of them you could hardly call it very private.

Here it was, the third step in one whole day. A, B and now C.

They had been singing and bouncing a little to their song when Christy stepped forward into the water, turning herself away from a crouched Becca to take care of her private area. Christy’s pert little white butt came jiggling into Becca’s full view in the brightly lit shower, and so did the dark thumbprint-sized birthmark, maybe six inches from her nose. Becca lost control of something deep inside and stretched her face towards that jiggling, bouncing little girl butt.

She shoved out her full 12-year-old tongue as far as it would go and gave that birthmark a nice big ice cream lick.

“Heh-hey!” Christy squealed, laughing at the tickling sensation.

Becca spun around, still crouching, and whistled that aimless whistle indicating ‘Hey, just mindin’ my business.’

Christy bent down and promptly dug her fingers into Becca’s exposed armpits, and Becca dropped and convulsed as one does when faced with insurmountable tickling. She giggled hysterically.

“You! Licked! Me!” Christy yelled in a deep, cartoon villain voice, tickling Becca all over now.

“Stop—please—stop!” Becca gasped for air as she screamed beautifully girly uncontrollable laughter. “Truce!”

Christy let go and stood up again, returning to her rinsing. Becca regrouped, the water hitting her head on the floor of the wide shower, then got up and finished her own rinse.

They exchanged a thumbs up, the nonsense and the shower both over, then Becca turned off the water. They stepped out and toweled off, then looked in the big bathroom mirror to make sure they had gotten all of the paint.

“Are you gonna put the paint away now?” Christy asked, looking in the mirror at herself.

“I can just bring it up to my room.”

“We can do it again tomorrow.”

“Yup,” Becca said, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

They finished up and scrambled downstairs to get out on the patio and clean up their mess. Once it was cleaned up, they brought the whole box up to Becca’s bedroom and plopped it in the corner.

“Do you have to go home,” Becca said, “or are you like staying for dinner and stuff?”

“Nah, my dad’s making pizza.”

“Aw, totes jell.”

“I’ll ask him if you can come next week,” Christy said, caressing her entire chest and stomach, up and down. So clean and smooth, and still moist. “He like needs to know ahead of time, I don’t know. Sheesh.”

“Sheesh two,” Becca said. 

“Sheesh three,” Christy said.

“Sheesh infinity,” Becca said. She was applying a thick coat of moisturizing gel to her own chest and stomach, getting herself glossy and gleaming. Just part of her normal after-shower routine.

Becca smacked her own butt with both hands and wiped the remaining gel off on it as if to say, ‘okay, let’s go.’ With that, they trudged down to the front door where all of Christy’s clothes and things were scattered around.

“Byeee,” Christy sang.

“Christy givey Becca huggy,” Becca said, throwing her arms open.

Christy dove into the hug, and they wiggled and squeezed tightly for a long one. It was a slidey, slippery hug due to Becca’s moisturizer, and it went on longer than their typical goodbye hug. Right at the end Christy pulled back a little and the two of them locked eyes. For just the tiniest of tiny moments, something passed there, but then it was gone. Christy winked and gave a little ‘mwah’, and Becca did the same with a bright smile.

They broke apart and Christy began the singular torture of pulling on her dumb clothes. She threw her panties and socks in her backpack and didn’t bother zipping her jean shorts. Then, she brought her shirt bottom up and through the neck to tie it up so that her bare stomach could show. Becca stood back and looked around the room for anything Christy might have left around.

Once Christy was finished, she slung on her backpack, flicked her sunglasses open and slid them on, then opened the door. Becca stood back out of view, and Christy stepped gingerly out of the house with a short, goofy “Seeyaaa”.

“Bye,” Becca said as the door shut. She waited with one hand on a slippery titty, listening to Christy take a few steps down the walk.

“Lovey you!” Christy yelled at the top of her lungs. It was an age-old tradition.

Becca whipped the door back open a crack and put her head out.

“Lovey you too!” she shouted.

\---------- That night, in the comfort of their own bedrooms, before they went to sleep, 10-year-old Christy and 12-year-old Becca reached shattering child orgasms.

Now, in a way, their masturbation had a lot to do with what had happened that day—the steps they had taken that could not be un-taken—but they were not as connected as it might seem to an adult mind. Becca masturbated nearly every night now, and she had a few different strategies for achieving a really great, full-body-rocking orgasm. It was practically her bedtime ritual these days. Christy, on the other hand, never planned it out, it just sort of happened from time to time.

Becca had gotten entirely too wound up for her own good that afternoon, and a bomb of sexual dynamite waited fused and primed at the front of her mind all through the evening. She slipped upstairs to her room much earlier than usual—around 9:30—to get to work on her body.

Once inside, she shut the door and turned out the lights except for a little bright night light. This light made the room glow in—how Becca would put it—a ‘bad’ kind of light. It made her feel a little naughty, and the single low light pushed her over the edge tonight into a madness of horny preteen mania.

Diving onto her bed, her body became her plaything. She rubbed herself all over, her mind disappearing into a primitive state without thoughts. She twisted her titties and squeezed her ass and her legs and everywhere. One arm slid along her asscrack and her pussy, and her juices flowed. She licked her body wherever she could. Her arms, knees, calves and all of her fingers became covered in sticky sweet saliva. She made muffled animal noises in the weird light and the silence. There were no fantasies of Christy or of anyone or anything else. This was the pure self-sex that children are capable of when they are in the midst of exploring their own burgeoning, innocent perversion.

After nearly twenty minutes of this, Becca slowed down, then stepped off the bed breathing hard. She squirted out handfuls of moisturizer and spread it on her tits, then reached under her bed and grabbed a stiff, long pillow she had found years ago in storage. She straddled it on her bed and rode it violently, watching her own bucking reflection in the mirror in the erotic light from the floor. She grabbed her wet titties just like Christy had done and stuck her tongue way out, humping and riding and squeezing until she could feel it—she was going to come.

She fell back, brought her knees up to her chest and propped her legs up in the air. With both hands she moved the fat, wet folds of her swollen 6th-grade cunt lips and punished her new big girl clit. The tension climbed to its maximum, up and up and up, and she came. Her feet danced wildly in the air and her body surged with one of the most powerful waves of orgasms she had ever felt, her entire back arching into the air and her eyes rolling back into her head. Becca’s legs and hands and pussy were soaked with juice, her bed was squishy and wet, and her lungs heaved.

Becca kept it all inside—she hardly made a peep aside from gasping for breath. Some time that summer, someone close to her would show her that she could scream and cry to elevate that release, but for right now her orgasm volume was under strict control.

She wouldn’t get to clean herself up. Becca fell fast asleep, naked on top of her sheets and covered in the pungent, sticky leftovers of pussy juice, sweat and moisturizer, not to be disturbed until she woke up for school the next morning smelling like body odor, saliva and just a divine hint of ass. Smelling like sex.

At Christy’s house, it happened quite differently. Christy grabbed a book to read and sat back in the big comfy purple chair in her thoroughly little girl room. The walls were pink, there were posters of little girl things and—among a lot of other little girl objects—a bookshelf of little girl books. As she read, sitting on the comfy chair, she began to rock back and forth.

After a few pages, she dropped the book and pushed herself up onto the arm of the chair, also comfy and cushy, letting one dreamy long leg fall off the side. Her lithe, porcelain white, naked little girl body straddled the purple arm of the chair so that one leg was on the floor and one on the seat of the chair, a knee up in the air. She leaned forward with one hand out in front on the chair arm for balance, and her long blonde hair fell all around her. In the full brightness of her overhead light, 10-year-old Christy began to grind the arm of the chair with natural erotic talent that would have to be seen to be believed.

Christy had a little quirk when she got sexual with herself. As soon as she had made the decision to abandon the book and move to the arm of the chair to pleasure her pussy (and, little did she know, her precious asshole), her thumb came up and went right into her mouth. Christy always sucked her thumb when she masturbated. Her brow furrowed too, and her eyes looked angry; if you had seen it, you might say she looked evil, but she didn’t know that. This was just her private little girl sex thing.

She humped the chair for a few minutes, then came slowly to a stop. This time was different than usual. The humping didn’t feel like enough. A rogue thought flicked into her imagination.

She imagined being licked. She imagined being all wet and licked all over, not specifically by Becca at all but by anonymous tongues. Just tongues. Lots of them. She wanted to be licked again. A warm blaze of sexual excitement spread in her little pussy. Becca’s one big lick had awoken something, a rabid creature that would come tearing out of its horny little hiding spot soon enough.

She took her thumb out, closed her eyes, and licked her other hand until it was as wet as she could get it. Each lick sent a shiver of electric pleasure from her stomach to her pussy to her legs. She got that hand nice and slobbery, returned her thumb to her hungry open mouth, reached down underneath with the wet hand and surprised herself. The wet hand seemed to have a life of its own. Sucking her thumb harder and harder, some spittle drooling out onto the chair arm, she grinded on the wet hand as her fingers found something special and focused on it. She gyrated and grinded and her fingers did the rest, wiggling and swirling. A single unbroken line of drool formed quickly from her mouth to the purple fabric. It swung around and around as she drove her pussy to a fingery climax.

She came—

Wait. I have to take a minute and describe a gem of Christy’s genius, because we will find out later that it’s a big part of this whole thing. Christy’s experiences coming have always left her drained and sleepy—it’s about to happen here. That’s why she calls having an orgasm ‘melting.’ Approaching an orgasm, she thinks to herself ‘I’m gonna melt.’ She got the term from The Wizard of Oz; when she saw it for the first time in 3rd grade, the “I’m melting!” scene reminded her of what it felt like to orgasm. We’ll see along our journey that she has a special gift for naming... activities... with her own little girl nomenclature. See, our girls won’t use the dirty words of the adult world—they’re children, after all. They will use their own words to describe what they are doing, a new language. The other girls will contribute, sure, but truly, the names are Christy’s game.

Anyway.

She came just a few minutes later, making hardly audible whimpering and squeaking noises, the sublime soft sounds of a little girl coming. She felt queasy—her stomach was doing this weird thing, trembling and spasming, and her head became kind of dizzy and her legs got tight. It was a more powerful orgasm than she was used to, but she kept with it until it was over.

She got off the chair arm, slunk back down into the seat and returned to her book, her pale smooth skin covered in a thin glistening layer of sweaty sheen. After all that, though, the book wasn’t terribly interesting, so she got into her bed. Christy had planned on brushing her teeth and kissing everyone goodnight like she always did, but the day’s crazy sexual energy and the really awesome come (not to mention more than half a pizza she scarfed down for dinner), knocked her out into a deep sleep as soon as she laid her head on the pillow.

She fell asleep with the lights on. Her mom came in and turned them off, tucked her in some more, and kissed her forehead, unknowingly tasting some of that special post-orgasm little girl sweat—a lucky mommy. She crept out and shut the door, her darling child safe and sound. Christy dreamed of water and roller coasters.

And here, we’ll let our little angels slumber until the next time.

Until they’re ready to take their next step.


	3. The Licking Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls are at Becca's house again, all alone for hours due to a half-day dismissal. They play with the paints again, and Christy sees her chance at revenge for Becca's naughty lick in the shower the last time. It goes somewhat awry. Later, back in the shower, Becca commits to war—a licking war, with no end in sight. The war leads to a new game, and the next day the new game goes even farther.

Christy and Becca had some time to recover from their powerful Thursday night child orgasms, the ones they had both had after Becca’s naughty surprise lick of her bestie’s butt in the shower that day.

Before the coconut oil dropped into their lives and escalated the situation by a factor of 10, time passed as it normally did for a 4th grader and a 6th grader. Even later in the summer when they truly got deep into fucking, they still spent time doing typical kid things.

The next day, the last Friday in April, Becca’s parents both took half-days and were home relaxing around the house before Becca and Christy got there. Christy burst out of the school bus and burst through the Dyers’ front door and burst out of her mini-skirt and tank top and panties right in front of Becca’s naked mother and father, having early Friday drinks in the front living room. She did her bathroom thing, then skipped that Friday-after-school-skip through the house to find Becca playing in the pool, and the two of them just did normal girly play stuff.

Saturday, Becca went to Christy’s house where they did some kind of mother-daughter fitness video series with their naked moms and their moms’ naked 22-year-old ‘friend’ Amy, a girl their moms called ‘Amy-baby.’ After that was over Christy and Becca stayed in Christy’s basement den and did some more YouTube dancing videos while their moms and Amy went upstairs for the evening to ‘give each other massages.’

The girls were exhausted. They watched a movie that night, munching popcorn and spread apart on the long couch touching feet until their moms and Amy finally came out of Christy’s mom’s room hours later with hoarse voices, funny walks, bloodshot eyes and smelling kind of funny for moms. Amy kept burping loud and then giggling quietly, and Christy and Becca looked at each other with quizzical looks. Grown-ups, right? Jeeze. On Sunday, they didn’t see each other.

May came on Monday, and for whatever reason the girls just kind of ignored the body paint. It didn’t come out again until that Wednesday. Wednesday brough terrific, sunny weather, and it also brought a half-day for the Lakeside Township School District. Christy made it to the house before Becca got there, so she waited by the front door, itching to get inside and get naked.

Today, Christy wore a short, tight dark purple dress, dangly earrings, her cat ear headband, a yellow choker, a few shiny rings, the friendship bracelet and multi-colored hairties on one wrist, and simple pink slip-on shoes.

Becca came flying up the long walkway to her house from the bus, her front door key out, ready to get through the door and get her clothes off. She and Christy waved frantically to each other.

“Hey!” they said.

Becca wore a pink t-shirt under a denim overalls romper with white Nikes. Her hair was done in elaborately braided pigtails today, and she wore dangly earrings similar to Christy’s. She had a new purple and yellow friendship bracelet on one ankle, and a seven-hundred-dollar Tiffany gold necklace that hung down over the front of her romper.

Becca jammed the key into the lock and pushed open the door, throwing her backpack as far as it could go before Christy came through the door and they shut it behind them.

As we already know, Christy could strip. She yanked her dress up and over her head with one hand—knocking her cat ears off—kicked her shoes off and shimmied out of her white panties all in one graceful movement that may have taken one exact second, beating Becca by a good five. Becca undid her overalls and took them off, revealing that she hadn’t bothered with panties that day, and flung off her shirt and shoes and socks. Christy put her cat-ears back on, and they hugged tightly and walked with each other into the kitchen to find lunch. They each took turns shooting in and out of the bathroom to get clean, this time taking a good 10 minutes each to apply sunblock to their entire bodies—they knew there was a good chance they would be outside for a long time today, and nudists are especially mindful of the dangers of the glaring Sun.

They talked and laughed and danced around, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and eating chips and grapes. No parents were around to supervise these two girls, so after eating they jumped directly into the pool.

The first time they went into the pool on that Wednesday, nothing of note happened. They swam a little, talked about Becca’s cool science experiment that morning, talked gossip about some of the YouTubes they followed—just a bunch of preteen girl stuff. When they emerged from the pool at the shallow end near the house, Becca got them towels from a wide wicker basket.

Christy toweled off swiftly, then looked down in annoyance.

“I’m always still dripping down there,” she said.

Becca was drying her hair.

“What? Where?”

“I mean, y’know, my thing.”

“Oh,” Becca said, her eyebrows popping up. She stared at Christy’s pussy. “Lemme see.”

Becca got closer to Christy and bent over, then extended her hand palm up under Christy’s dripping pussy. Her palm was full of water in seconds.

“Just like dry it better, ya goof.”

Christy threw her towel at Becca and Becca finished toweling. Then, Becca—watching Christy there by the pool and realizing they were alone—remembered the paint, and remembered getting her boobies touched.

“Wanna do paint again?” she said. “We can leave it on for a while today.”

“Oooh. Yesh.” Christy caressed her sides and licked her lips. They had five hours to play.

They ran through the house and up the steps into Becca’s room and retrieved the paint stuff, then rambled back down the steps and out of the kitchen’s sliding doors.

Christy and Becca picked up where they had left off. Precedent was set, and Becca got to work first. She used her hands to paint Christy’s flat chest, then used paint brushes to paint her stomach, her upper legs, inner thighs and then—just like last time—her entire pussy. When she was done, Christy opened her eyes.

“Can you paint my face this time?”

“Yeah, here.” Becca brought some paints and brushes over to the edge of the pool and sat down with her feet in the water. She looked back over at Christy and patted her lap.

“Kay,” Christy said. She came over and got down on her back beside the pool with one leg dangling in the water, her head propped on Becca’s lap. Becca began painting Christy’s face, carefully and thoughtfully, with flowers and tiny vines.

“Is the New People Party this weekend?” Christy said.

“No, I think it’s like in a few weekends or whatever.”

Becca painted some more. Christy swished her leg in the water.

“I wonder if there will be any other kids.”

“Yeah.” Becca changed her brush for pink and returned to her tender, careful painting on Christy’s cute face.

“How many other kids at school do you think are naked?”

‘Are naked’ was their way of saying ‘are nudists.’ The term ‘nudist’ was some kind of adult phrase, and they didn’t use it. Becca frowned in thought at the question.

“If, like, other kids at school were naked, I think we’d, um, probably know them or something?"

“Hmm,” Christy said.

Becca painted some more. Christy had another thought.

“We should come up with, like, some games to play and stuff if there are new kids.” Later, in hindsight, this statement would have a much deeper meaning.

“Ooh,” Becca said, stopping her work for a moment. “Water balloons!”

“Yes!” Christy said. She thought for a moment. “Oh, and cornhole!”

“Oh my god I, like, suck at that.”

They laughed, then Christy pushed herself up a little to get better situated on Becca’s lap. She looked up and their eyes met. Magic danced across the space in between their heads. The sun shone its holy light on Christy’s innocenct face and she smiled with little white teeth and squinty eyes into Becca’s 12-year-old heart.

Love.

“You do totally suck at it,” Christy said.

“You butt!” Becca said, her mouth agape. “Man!”

Christy gently spasmed with giggly laughter, and Becca just shook her head.

“I think it’s my turn now, you butt.”

Christy got up from Becca’s lap and went over to the table where the paints were all spread out on the ground. Becca got up and shook some water off her calves and feet, then came over and got into position.

Christy kneeled down with a brush and began to paint Becca’s stomach. What Christy did, though, was immediately illustrate a sort of cartoon lower back and buttcheeks. Before Christy could get to the legs under that butt, barely able to restrain her giggling brain, Becca came out of her getting-touched-bliss above and caught the little sneak red-handed.

“Oh my god, you little crap!”

Christy tried to stand up but was now wracked with the loud laughter of a prankster. She lost her balance at once and fell backwards, sitting down with a thump onto a smorgasbord of paints in their disposable styrofoam bowls. They both could not stop laughing.

“Serves you right you weirdo!” Becca laughed and shook her head, helping her best friend off the ground. She spun Christy around by the shoulders and inspected the damage. All the colors of the rainbow covered Christy’s entire butt and its interior, some of her upper thighs and a smattering on her lower back.

“You look like a monkey!” Becca roared and bent over with laughter.

“You’ve got a butt on your stomach!” Christy pointed at Becca’s stomach and bent over laughing hysterically, hardly able to breathe. She stood up to gather herself, then promptly ran at full speed to the edge of the pool and leaped into the skillful perfect cannonball form of little kids. Water crashed out of the pool onto Becca’s feet, and she too ran for the pool, just jumping in.

The girls splashed at each other and floated around, teeth chattering for a minute as they got close to each other. They giggled and talked about whatever, then Becca got down on her haunches, turned away from Christy and tapped her shoulders. Christy hopped up in the water to get onto Becca’s shoulders, her pussy jammed into the back of Becca’s neck. They went around like that for a little, playing and marching, Christy ‘driving’ them until Becca got tired and lifted Christy up and back to splash her down into the water.

“Wanna go dance and stuff?” Becca asked.

“Kay.”

Becca swam for one of the ladders and Christy followed right behind.

Becca’s big lick in the shower the prior week sat waiting in the back of Christy’s mind in a number of ways. It had moved something inside of her, and she wanted it again. There was also some injustice there, she felt. The tickling had not returned equilibrium to their friendship, and she just had to get Becca back. She had to get her back for that sneaky lick when she least expected it.

It wasn’t exactly some kind of long-view plot of Christy’s. The idea sat waiting, biding its time until ready to spring into Christy’s little girl imagination at precisely the correct time.

When Becca got to the ladder, she rubbed her eyes, then grabbed the rails and began to hoist herself up. Christy, directly behind her at that point, grabbed the lower rails just as Becca was pulling up. Becca’s big beautiful bubble butt lifted out of the pool streaming water right onto the top of Christy’s head—she was that close.

Revenge blazed out of its waiting place like a water balloon thrown at full speed and smacked Christy’s thoughts right in the face with a sudden powerful plop.

She looked straight up at Becca’s pushed out, spread wet ass and pussy, juicy and shifting mid-climb. In a remarkable act of little girl athleticism she shot up out of the water and pushed her tongue straight out towards it. Sweet payback.

Now, what Christy had meant to do was catch Becca’s inner buttcheek for a big retaliatory slurp on par with Becca’s initial shower lick. What actually happened was just slightly off the mark.

Christy’s eyes closed at the last second, the natural inclination of anybody about to apply their tongue to someone else’s body, and she missed the buttcheek—Becca was mid-climb after all, and her ass was in motion. Christy’s full tongue landed right up onto Becca’s clean, wet asshole and slid past it to the slick asscrack skin above.

They both might as well get used to it, considering what they’ll be doing in their coming future.

“Monkeyyy!” Becca screamed, clambering forward onto the deck.

Christy’s laughter pierced the air and she fell back into the pool.

It took a few foggy seconds for reality to pour into Becca’s head. She realized exactly what Christy had just done: licked her actual butt. Like, the actual hole! That hole!

Did she, like, realize what the heck she had just flippin’ done?

The little freak laughed and splashed with victory in the pool, and Becca turned around slowly to face this person.

“Got you back!” Christy squealed.

“Do you—like, you licked my butt!”

“You licked my butt first!”

“You tickled me!”

“That! Didn’t! Count!”

Christy splashed as hard as she could toward her best friend, laughing and quite happy with herself. She had no idea where her tongue had actually gone, and considered their relationship back to normal, equilibrium reached.

Becca jumped back into the pool and chased Christy around until Christy reached the shallow end steps, backing up out of the pool slowly.

When they both got out, they made their way towards the towels and Becca simply gave up. She couldn’t tell if Christy really understood where she had licked, and a kind of indecisive stupor descended over her mind.

“You need to get a shower and get all that paint off your monkey butt,” Becca said. “You’ll get it on stuff in the house.”

“Totes,” she said.

With that, they ran into the house giggling and chasing each other, then went into the bathroom and Becca turned on the water. They put on their shower caps and stepped in. Christy got all wet and began soaping up her butt, one eye on Becca just in case. She closed her eyes and stepped into the water, and Becca saw her opportunity.

Becca got down on her knees and reached around Christy’s body with the speed and efficiency of a Special Forces commando. She stuck her tongue way out and grabbed Christy’s waist before Christy could react, then licked from just above Christy’s asshole up to the top of her pale white asscrack.

Christy absolutely screamed in surprise and jolted back around. Becca scrambled off of her knees and stood back. They stared at each other with anticipation. Christy winked.

War.

Laughing and beyond thrilled, Christy and Becca barely made it out of the shower without slipping and cracking their heads open. They took off through the house at full tilt, leaving the water running. Christy chased Becca around the second floor and into a guest bedroom, both of them dripping wet. She cornered Becca on one side of the huge bed, shut her eyes and yelled at the top of her lungs:

“I’m gonna lick your butt!”

“No! You’re not!”

Christy dove towards her but Becca jumped up on top of the bed and escaped, back into the hallway and all the way to the top of the front steps, her wet, budding titties wagging and bouncing in all directions. Behind her Christy roared like an animal with kid glee.

“Raaaah!”

They nearly fell head over heels down the back and forth steps and hit the first floor running. Christy was fast and sleek. She cornered Becca again in the den, and Becca stood up on the couch.

“Get back!”

Christy crept forward with her hands out, then pounced. She caught Becca’s legs as Becca tried to flee across, and Becca fell in a controlled fall into the couch cushions. Christy pulled herself onto Becca’s legs up to her butt and licked her buttcheeks three times in quick succession. Becca screamed and got free, tumbling onto the floor. Christy jumped off the couch and stood up, waiting for Becca to come to her feet.

“Tag!” Christy yelled, then took off running.

Becca had a critical choice here. She could de-escalate this situation and allow the tit-for-tat to die off, returning to the shower and permitting the equilibrium to return again, the game over. Or she could go tongue that little maniac’s butt and keep this war hot. Fortunately for us, she made the right choice.

There was no indecision this time. She put her head down and spun out running after Christy. Lick her butt three times? Just wait!

"You punk!" Becca yelled.

Christy had made it to the sliding doors and stood there gasping for breath. She slid it open as Becca came sprinting into the kitchen and ran out into the big backyard. They chased each other all over the place, back and forth for nearly a half hour, taking simultaneous breaks to catch their breath. They found each other cornered often—were they letting themselves get cornered?—and they licked each other’s butts at least a dozen times.

Christy found a chance to slide into the basement, and Becca almost lost her. Christy couldn’t help letting out a little giggle as Becca stood in the dining room listening, and Becca ran around and down into the basement. She knew where Christy was going.

At the end of the narrow corridor between all the rooms in the basement the hallway opened out into a very specific room: a 16-seat private home movie theater with yet another bar at the rear. The bar had a stash of movie candy boxes and an old-fashioned novelty popcorn kettle that actually made decent popcorn. The movie theater faced a huge screen and a state-of-the-art digital projector sat pressed up against the ceiling near the bar like a giant bug. The rows of four seats each—big comfy boxy modern movie theater-style chairs—descended just ever so much with the floor.

This was a great hiding spot.

“You crap,” Becca said to herself, then yelled. “I’m not gonna let you get out of here!”

She crept down the aisle next to the chairs looking here and there, then realized she had forgotten to turn on this room’s bright overhead lights. Some ambient lighting always lit up when the basement main lights were flicked on, but the room was shrouded in shadows.

Suddenly, movement.

Christy had tried to scootch herself into one of the chairs where it was darkest and lay there unnoticed.

Fail.

Becca practically dove from the aisle over Christy’s prone body, Christy's stomach on the chair and her legs sort of dangling off. Becca had her girl.

Christy had still been trying to get into a better position, and was caught off guard. She screamed laughter into the chair cushion. Becca had her pinned with no chance of escape, and they struggled. Becca, stronger than Christy by a fair margin, kept her pinned and got to her butt. She licked Christy’s little butt cheeks slow and steady, over and over and over against the Christy's thrashing body. Christy bucked and pushed, but it made no difference. Becca licked her butt cheeks 10 times, 20. She just kept going.

“I surrender!” Christy remembered the word she had been searching for and it clanged out over the air. Becca stopped. They went still.

“You’re a liar,” Becca said. She thrust her tongue back out and got right back to work, slowly licking Christy’s butt, nearly coming into contact with her asshole.

Now, though, Christy was feeling both out of energy and, well, giving into something. Her subconsious mission was now complete. She was being licked again, good and wet and for a long time.

Becca whipped herself into a frenzy and licked Christy’s naked butt for almost a full two minutes, savoring complete and utter victory, and Christy calmed down. Her body went limp and she took slower breaths. Right before Becca stopped—for whatever reason she stopped—Christy almost had her thumb in her mouth.

Becca sat up and wiped her mouth with her forearm, and Christy painstakingly pushed herself up next to her. The only sound in the room was the low, slow hiss of the central air somewhere and the gradually quieter whisper of their own breathing returning to normal.

Something had happened here. Not as much happened as you might think—these were two preteen girls entirely at ease with their own nakedness and on a totally different level from most regular people as far as body parts were concerned—but something had happened regardless. Christy licked her lips and looked around.

“You win,” she said.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Becca said, standing up and putting her hands on her head. Time to change the subject.

“I need to drink—ehhhck—water,” Christy said, touching her throat.

“Oh my god, like yeah.”

They limped up the aisle to the corridor and walked single file to the stairs, then walked up. Christy and Becca puttered around in the kitchen not talking, getting big glasses of Pepsi from a two-liter in the fridge and returning down into the movie theater. Christy snuck into the bar area and found some Sour Patch Kids, and Becca brought the theater to life with the remote. The screen flickered on and she selected a movie from Netflix—Moana.

The two of them met right back where they had wrestled around licking butts and settled into one wide chair, lifting one of the chair arms so they could spread out. They watched the movie, shared the candy and drank their Pepsi. Ever so carefully, testing each other’s feelings, they began to snake their limbs around each other.

Besties.

About 10 minutes into the movie, Christy made a noise. Becca was stretched out, laying almost the full length of the two connected chairs with her feet up, and Christy was half-kneeling behind her with her legs under her knees. Christy’s head was right over Becca’s shoulder.

Becca looked up at the noise.

“Hm?”

“Meow,” christy said. She looked over to Becca and made her eyes big. The tip of her tongue squeezed out between her lips and she put her hands up in the position of all little girls pretending to be cats. It had nothing to do with the movie, and everything to do with Christy.

“Meow?”

Becca, a little older than Christy, took a minute to spin the gears of her mind into pretend mode. It took a little effort, but she did it. Who needs a stupid movie they had both seen like 100 times?

“Meow,” Christy said again. “Meowww.”

“Good kitty,” Becca said, laughing a short little laugh.

“You be the mommy,” Christy whispered. As if they weren’t the only ones in the gigantic mansion.

“Kitty wants mommy?”

“Meow,” Christy said, and she placed a timid, submissive lick on Becca’s upper arm.

Christy. The miracle. The Chosen One. They had both made choices until this point to continue whatever was going on, whatever was rising in their little girl heads and heating up in their little pussies, but Christy was certainly the one most dedicated to following this rabbit down its hole.

“Kitty thirsty?” Becca lifted her arm to pet the nice kitty and Christy snuggled down to her in full kitty mode. She lowered her golden head down onto Becca’s fresh titties and began to lick Becca’s right nipple. Little kitty licks, quick and flicky.

Becca just died. Could she have possibly seen this coming? Not really, Christy just did stuff. We’ve seen that before. Christy laid there, her hands still in kitty form under her chin, and licked Becca’s nipple for a good 30 seconds. She lifted her head to the air and gave another ‘meow,’ then moved over and gave the other nipple some licks.

“Kitty like... muh” Becca said, but that was all that she could manage. Her titties were being licked for the first time in her life, and her body went to the stars.

Every once in a while, Christy would meow and sort of purr, then return to Becca’s titties. Becca pretended to watch the movie, and every so often patted Christy’s bobbing head.

“Good... kit,” she said. Then Becca herself made another critical, story-deciding decision for us. It was one of those classic Becca blurt-out-loud moments.

“Do it... like iccce crrream,” she whispered. It almost didn’t make it all the way out. This statement was not meant for the kitty—it was meant for Christy, the girl.

The kitty understood exactly what that meant. Christy’s full tongue shook loose from her little mouth. This was the largest tongue you have ever seen on a little girl, a wide, fat red snake that reached past her chin. She began licking Becca’s full titties, from their base over the wide 12-year-old nipples, then repeating. One titty, then the next, then back to the other one, over and over.

Ten minutes passed, and a glass of some mental liquid—libido—smashed all over the floor of Becca’s mind like it had been dropped from a high window. Becca undid herself from Christy and stood up, covering her pussy with both hands.

“I have to pee so bad!” she yelled, and took off in a ‘really gotta pee’ kind of walk.

Christy kept her hands in their kitty position until Becca left, then sat back and began to pay attention to the movie again. She shifted her position and felt cool wetness on her leg where Becca’s butt had just been. Had she spilled some Pepsi? Christy cocked her face with confusion and bent over to put her nose right over the damp spot. It didn’t smell like Pepsi, just a little sweet—almost no smell really.

Upstairs, Becca ran into the bathroom, started the shower, got her front wet, soaped up her tits and sat down on the shower floor with the water hitting right next to her. She spread her legs and clamped her eyes shut, then found her clit and began furiously masturbating, squeezing her soapy titties with her other hand. She came in a hard, wild five minutes, her pussy pulsing with a weakening warmth. Her tongue hung out of her mouth and she began to hear a ringing in her ears. Her heart beat hard and she became momentarily dizzy. This was some orgasm.

Even then, though, that orgasm was hardly joined to the idea of Christy herself and more to the simple sensory awakening of having her sensitive budding boobies licked for almost a quarter of an hour, just after having licked someone else’s body for a similarly long time.

She got to her knees, turned off the water and almost fell over trying to get up. Getting out of the shower took labor and a lot of energy, and she finally toweled off, peed and wiped down. When she returned to the movie theater spent and drowsy she found Christy picking the good parts out of a box of Cracker Jacks and wagging her foot, watching the movie.

They finished the movie, watched two Spongebob episodes, then got out of the movie theater. With tuckered out voices they agreed to lay out near the pool. Becca could use the tan, though it was almost 5:00, and Christy could use the laying. The rest of their day consisted of laying by the pool on reclining pool chairs and listening to an Ariana Grande album. Christy fell in and out of a nice nap in the sun, and Becca thought more about the New People Party and sang quietly to herself. At 6:10 Becca’s mom came home and the girls dragged themselves to the front door. They hugged briefly and Christy tugged her clothes on.

They did their ‘Love you’s' like always, and Becca spent the rest of the night laying around in a blissful state. When Christy got home, she sat in front of the TV until she fell asleep. Her dad picked her up, tucked her in and turned out the lights.

\----------

Wouldn’t you need a week or so to digest what had happened to you all through that house and then down in that movie theater? Christy did not.

The next day, Christy showed up at the usual time—around 3:25—with a big secret mission. She entered Becca’s house and shed her clothes with her superpowers, leaving on her jewelry and her cat ears. She announced her entrance with a loud “I’m heeeaaarrr!” then rushed into the bathroom to do her thing. This time, she brought her backpack.

That morning she had awoken with an intense little girl horniness and a wicked plan. Since she hadn’t gotten to masturbate that night, she wanted more. Well, she didn’t exactly ‘want’ more, it wasn’t that obvious or up front. She needed her fill. It was more instinctual and wrapped up in her little girl pretend zone. Christy had dug through some boxes in her closet before school and found what she was looking for—cheap face paint from her 9th birthday party.

In the bathroom, after she had done her normal thing, she took a few minutes to draw the basics of a cat’s features on her face—whiskers and a dark cat nose and dots above her lips. She finished up, smushed everything into her backpack and just left it on the bathroom floor, throwing open the door and stepping out into the hall. She was a cat.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, Becca came walking towards her from the other end of the hall. They both froze.

Christy brought her hands up into kitty position and screeched a loud ‘meowww!’ then took off running towards Becca. Becca got the game instantly.

Another war.

Becca got right into cat mode herself, and this time simple butt cheeks were a thing of the past. This time, the whole body was in play.

I won’t bore you with the details of their second Licking War, but it lasted a solid hour and a half. There were breaks of course, but the War continued for most of the time. At one point, Christy had Becca half-laying out of the pool and was licking the back of her calves. At another point, Becca got her tongue right into Christy’s ear before Christy nearly kicked her in the leg. They licked legs, arms, necks, and backs—any place they could get their tongues before the other one got away. They went everywhere on the property, and by a little after 5:00 they were out of energy. It ended in Terri’s humongous bedroom.

Becca laid sideways on her back on Terri’s giant bed, and Christy sat slumped agains the open door trying with all of her might to keep the kitty thing going. They were both very much out of breath.

Becca slid herself up to put her head on one of Terri’s many pillows, and felt something hard underneath. She reached her hand under the pillow and found three smallish items: a red-tinted transparent glass cone-shaped thing, a black, hard plastic bean-shaped device with a power-port, and a sort of choker-looking necklace thing with a bright pink ball on it. She just put them back—they meant nothing to her. In fact, these had been Terri's years-old anal plug, a new vibrator, and a ball gag, the tip of quite an iceberg. Like all high school girls, Terri possessed a rapidly growing collection of x-rated toys and lubricants for elaborate, ruthless masturbation sessions, though she lacked many of the raunchy punish-me sex outfits that normal teenage girls all secretly love to wear when they're by themselves. If Christy and Becca had looked harder, they would have found a lot more stuff in that room.

Christy made one last grueling effort and crawled over to the bed, then pushed herself up onto it right next to Becca.

“Meow,” she said. It sounded strained. A tired, tired kitty.

She reached out and put an arm over Becca. Becca did not resist. Christy leaned up and put her head on Becca’s chest, then started licking again. These were no timid little kitty licks, these were ‘ice cream’ licks. Becca closed her eyes and just let it happen. Christy won.

Clearly, 10-year-old Christy and her 12-year-old best friend Becca had reached some kind of new normal. They laid on the bed just doing what they did now, licking each other’s bodies.

“Kitty wants milk,” Becca said, more an observation than anything else.

“Meow,” Christy answered.

“Pretend...” Becca searched for something. “Pretend... you’re hurt.”

Christy stiffened and leaned up to cock her face at Becca.

“Pretend you’re hurt so mommy... can make it better for the kitty.”

Becca’s turn. Christy figured it out and rolled over to lay down on her back, her little hands to her sides still turned like kitty hands—Christy was not a quitter.

Becca rolled over onto her side, her naked, sweaty body pressed close to Christy’s own naked, sweaty body.

“Where kitty hurt?” she said.

“Meow,” Christy said, motioning to her tummy with her paws. Becca leaned over and began to lick Christy’s tummy in big ‘ice cream’ licks all the way across. Kitty meowed and purred, and mommy made it feel better. Becca moved up and licked Chrity’s own pointy little girl nipples for a while, then let out a mommy-sounding, caring meow. Christy answered quietly, their fledgling game going on and on. Becca found that she really enjoyed the slightly salty taste of Christy's fresh, tight little girl skin.

They played kitty and mommy until 5:30, licking each other’s chests and tummies. Their pussies glowed hot with the embers of child horniness and their minds spun with trembling ecstasy. They perched themselves on the verge of a sexual cliff, about to throw themselves out into the sky and fly.

Then, they just stopped and laid there, each of them primed to explode in quivering orgasms whenever they could at last gain some privacy at some point later in the night.

The Licking Wars were over.

The Licking Age had come to stay.


	4. (Chapter 24) The Triple Ice Cream Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timid Lissa is nervous about her first time as Princess. The girls as usual make it easy peasy, and they go through the ritual of their game. Lissa is hesitant to start, for fear that her first want as Princess is too strange. On the contrary, it is surprisingly well-received.
> 
> **[Note to the reader: This is part 24 of a planned 30 parts. Let me explain.**
> 
> **I’m publishing this part early for a few reasons. First, I just really wanted to write this fucking scene, Lissa’s whole shy girly vibe is so hot to me. Second, the first bunch of parts to this story are a slow, tender buildup to what I hope is a more plausible eruption of preteen lesbian sex than I’ve read out there, and I wanted readers to have something to chew on while they got through those chapters without much preteen lesbian sex, let alone preteen lesbian sex this wildly gratuitous.**
> 
> **One last thing: this part has a lot of strange vocabulary and not much direct explanation, but I don’t think it’s too hard to figure out. All of the questions you might have will be answered in due time, I promise. Get yourselves wet and enjoy.]**

Evening. A hot, dry Thursday in July.

10-year-old Lissa felt the cold creep of anxiety on her skin and in her stomach as she walked with her twin sister Missa down the winding road in their sprawling housing development. They passed new mansion after new mansion on the new pavement, alone with their own thoughts. Tonight, they were going to yet another sleepover with their best friends: 12-year-old Becca and 10-year-old Christa, both now waiting for them at Becca’s huge mansion.

Lissa wasn’t anxious about what they were going to do there—she loved loved loved to practice. Practicing was always fun and pretty easy, plus it felt so, so good. She was just anxious to be in charge, and tonight would be her night.

Her first night as Princess.

By this point, Becca and Christa had both been Princess twice, and Missa—no surprise—had been Princess five times. By the end of the last practice, they had all realized that Lissa hadn’t taken a turn yet, and so it was decided: at the next practice, Lissa would be Princess. At that precise moment Lissa had been coming down from the soft spasming aftermath of a powerful child orgasm, and had just said “Sure.”

They strode across the rich green lawn to Becca’s front door, and just went right in. All of their parents were gone for the night, as they often seemed to be this summer, and the arrangement was for Terri to ‘watch’ them (which, little did they know, she definitely would). What that actually meant was that Terri would hang out in the basement movie theater or in her palacial bedroom and ‘ignore’ them, the volume turned up super loud on whatever she was ‘doing.’

The girls could do whatever they wanted, wherever they wanted, with total privacy (they thought).

As the door closed behind the twins, a naked Becca and Christa came walking towards them holding hands. They were out of breath from doing cartwheels in the front living room.

“Yay!” Christa shouted.

Like all four girls always did after they got into Becca’s house, Lissa and Missa stripped in the hallway in front of the closed front door. They patiently took off their blue-and-white rompers, their pink panties, and their shoes and socks while Becca and Christa watched the twins’ athletic, dark, naked bodies emerge. Lissa carefully folded their clothes neatly on top of the shoes in a pile near the door. The other three girls greeted each other and hugged, then turned to face Lissa. She stood up from her pile. 

They were all naked now—it was her move.

“Are you guys, like, already twirly?” she said. Her voice was timid and small.

Christa bounced up and down with fists at her side and blurted out a wild “Uh-huh!” Becca and Missa looked at each other’s bodies from head to toe and nodded at each other.

“Um, then I guess I have to go make the magic first,” she said.

“Me and Christa already made it,” Becca said in her deep, raspy voice. “It’s, like, in the bottles. No sweat!”

“Okay,” Lissa said. Moment of truth.

Christa could hardly contain herself.

“You’re finally gonna be Princess,” she whispered in her gonzo voice. She gave a little breathy squeal and trembled for effect.

They stood there smiling, hands on their hips and looking at the Princess. Waiting. Lissa licked her lips. Her mouth went dry and desperate. Time to get started—she knew what to do.

“Um, alright. Then I guess... let’s do love stuff.”

They did love stuff, hugging each other and telling each other "I love you" and "I want you to feel good" and all of those things, then stood in a circle holding hands and said the chant. 

**We're the A's and this is our game  
Lissa's invention and Christa's name  
We're really twirly and we want to play  
Before we begin we have something to say:  
  
Are we being bad? _NOOO!!!_  
What are we doing? _PRACTICING!!!_**

They calmed down, then waited for the next part.

"Okay," Lissa said, and took a deep breath. "Let's do France." 

They all smiled, stepped in close and pressed their bodies together, their noses almost touching. All four opened their mouths and stuck their tongues out into the middle. They licked and rolled their tongues together, their hands drifting to each other’s backs. Someone let out a brief sigh of pleasure, a cute and short sound that could only come from a little girl licking another tongue. The only other sounds in the room were the soft wet smacks of tongues and lips, slipping and sliding and flicking.

Lissa knew her job. She pulled away after a minute or so and the other three did the same. Missa wiped her mouth on her arm and Christa caressed her own pale stomach. Becca held her budding, perky titties in her hands just because. The room was quiet for only a few seconds, and then the other girls just lost their minds. All three talked excitedly over each other at their best friend Lissa finally getting her turn.

“Oh my god—”

“You’re Princess!”

“—so excited—”

“—we’re gonna do every—”

“—remember my first—”

“—felt, like, sooo good when you two—"

“What do you think she’ll—”

“—like, alllllll over you—"

“—do your magic and just—"

Lissa smiled a nervous smile and they turned to run up the steps with her, up the steps to Becca’s own huge bedroom. They giggled and talked fast like typical happy little girls all the way into Becca’s room. Once inside, they took turns going to the bathroom to clean up, the Princess going last, and they each removed whatever jewelry they had on and placed it in Becca’s desk drawer. They had learned their lesson a long time ago not to keep anything on any surfaces when they practiced—they usually ended up having sex all over the place, and a pointy earring or anklet could get painfully in the way.

The warmed coconut oil was contained in four condiment squirt-bottles with the rest sitting safely in a giant stainless steel mixing bowl in Becca’s massive walk-in closet. Becca handed bottles to Missa and Christa, and they each took turns helping each other get it all over their bodies with their hands. Then, as Ladies always did for the Princess, they slathered Lissa’s chest and back in oil and got to work using their own bodies to rub it all over hers. All just routine. Lissa had in fact been really excited for that part. It felt really great.

When they were finished, each little girl was resplendent with shining smooth skin, ready to fuck and ready to be fucked. They stood around looking down at their bodies and looking in the big leaning mirror to make sure it was everywhere, then turned to face Lissa. She was tense. It was almost time for her to take over. Becca, Missa and Christa knelt down on the floor right in front of her. They flipped their hair back behind them and stared up at Lissa’s face.

“Wait,” Becca said. “Did you wanna hold the Princess wand?”

Lissa nodded. Of course! Something else to, like, buy some time—anything!

Becca got back up and went over to her closet to retrieve the toy magic wand with the sparkly fluffy tip. She closed the door with her big pubescent butt and leaped across to give it to Lissa. Becca knelt back down in her place and Lissa held the wand limp in one hand.

She turned away and bent down to take a drink of water from a plastic kitchen cup. She could feel time stand still. When the cup was empty she placed it back on the floor near the wall, then turned around to face them. The room was dead quiet.

With bright overhead light filling the whole bedroom, filling every nook and cranny of their magnificent, oiled preteen bodies, Lissa stood stock still with her three grinning best friends at her feet. They began to whisper over each other at her, a quiet cacaphony of supercharged pleading that filled the small space between them.

“Go. Tell us.”

“What’s your want?”

“Say your want.”

“Yeah, say a want.”

“Give us a want.”

“Say a want to us.”

“Yeah say one.”

“Yeah c’mon. A want.”

The whispering died out and Christa reached out her hand to touch Lissa’s slick upper thigh. She looked up at Lissa and their eyes met. In that moment, Christa truly was a Princess’s Lady—she was youngest and the best at pretending.

“Say your want to us, Princess,” she said.

Lissa raised her head and looked out the window. The sun had just completely set, and the night sky was dark blue. She swallowed, took a deep breath, then closed her eyes and brought the first want of her young life into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered open and she frowned. The words came out slow in a sad whine, her bottom lip sticking out just a little, the great pouting ability of little girls on full display. 

“I want... triple ice cream on my err-err.”

Well, this was unexpected. It caught the three kneeling girls off guard at first, and they looked around at each other searching and shocked. No one had ever even wanted regular ice cream down there. It was a novel idea, perhaps one they couldn’t believe they had missed. In seconds, as if Lissa had just pulled off a spectacular gymnastics landing, her Ladies exploded with joy.

“You made your first waaant!” Christa shouted. She jumped up and hugged Lissa tight, and the others jumped up and joined in. It was a celebration weeks in the making, a delirious party of congratulations and love.

“Awww! I never thought we’d hear your very first want!” Becca said.

“I know,” Christa said, laughing. “She looked so scared and stuff! So totes cool!”

“I! Am! So! Proud! Of! You!” Missa said, shaking her sister hard by the shoulders and smiling wide.

Lissa’s head dropped. She was relieved. She had not been sure if her first want would be okay, since it had never been asked for before. Ever since the moment she had heard Christa call it ‘ice cream’ she had known exactly where she wanted to have it. In fact, she had actually tried to give herself ice cream on her err-err one night in the bathroom, bending into that pretzel position that comes natural to flexible little kids. It hadn’t worked, so she knew it would be her first want, and that was scary. It wouldn’t be enough to just get her err-err helpied—by this point that was old news. She wanted all three of them to give her err-err as much ice cream as they could—just the idea of it quickened her pulse and made her sweat.

Lissa’s best friend support system brought her out of her little funk. She felt a lot better. The girls’ giddy lovefest took a minute or two to die down, then they backed away, talking very fast and figuring things out.

Time for some logistics.

“Alright—” Christa said, clapping her hands together, but Becca cut in.

“Lay down on your back?” Becca said.

“Uh-uh,” Missa said. “Then her err-err’s too far underneath.”

“Okay, then on your stomach,” Becca said.

Lissa dropped the wand on the floor, went to the giant bed and got onto her stomach, her legs spread wide behind her. Oh, she so very badly wanted to get started.

“That’s good,” Becca said. Hey, problem solved.

“I can’t see,” Lissa complained.

“She wants to see it, people!” Christa announced, tucking her long hair back behind her ears. “Okay, not like that. Try on your back.”

Lissa rolled onto her back and spread her legs wide again. The girls stood there staring at her juicy little girl pussy slick with glossy sheen, analyzing that angle.

“I can see now,” she said.

“Yeah but—" Missa said, then took both hands and put them on Lissa’s lower buttcheeks to try to spread them. She looked back at the other two when she got it good and spread. “See, we can’t all get to it like that.”

Okay then. Problem not solved.

“Get on your side?” Christa said, shrugging. Lissa rolled onto one side so she could face the mirror better, drew her knees up, then hesitantly lifted her top leg way up in the air.

“No, hold on,” Christa said. She licked her lips in concentration. “Like this.”

She took Lissa’s raised leg and bent her foot down so that she was still wide open to them, but so her foot could rest on her bottom leg. Christa’s lily-white skin contrasted starkly with Lissa’s half-Greek, quarter-Nigerian, quarter-Indonesian sun-darkened hue of lovely brown. Lissa’s legs were spread wide now, and the girls climbed onto the bed. They had enough room on the bed to get down so that their little girl faces were right under Lissa’s spread pussy and asshole.

“That’s good,” Missa said.

Here it was, Lissa’s first want about to be put into action: triple ice cream on her err-err.

Becca, Christa and Missa crammed in together on hands and knees. Their slippery little naked bodies slid against each other’s and glistening naked asses waggled in the air with anticipation like puppy dogs. They leaned in and stretched their heads towards Lissa’s asshole, their cheeks all squished together. Christa counted them off.

“Kay, ready? Three, two, one!” She couldn’t help it—she squealed with delight after she counted ‘one.’ Becca let out a quick snort of laughter at her best friend. Silly Christa.

They stuck their tongues out as far as they could and began taking turns in rapid succession giving Lissa’s exposed asshole big, long licks. Their tongues overlapped, but that was kind of the best part. All the oily skin-sliding and all the wet tongue-on-tongue stuff was what made practice such a great thing. It made Lissa feel good, it made them feel good, and the oil made it taste great, too.

Lissa let out a little whimper as she felt their tongues getting busy on her asshole., then did the thing they all did now, Christa’s personal trademark: she stuck her thumb in her mouth to suck on it like very young children suck. The triple ice cream felt better than she could have dreamed. There is just something so very right about little girl tongues licking little girl assholes, and Lissa had been the one to discover it for them, a pioneer after all.

After a minute, Missa used one hand to hold Lissa’s top buttcheek back, stretching Lissa’s asshole wider so they could really deliver the big licks that she wanted. The phrase ‘triple ice cream’ had a kind of heft to it—those licks had to be really, really, extra good licks.

They did Lissa’s first want until her next want—that was how it worked. It went on for almost eight minutes. The three girls occasionally giggled with their tongues out, and once in a while somebody made a slurping or scarfing sound. For a little while Lissa watched them with her own eyes and then watched in the mirror, but not for long. She soon closed her eyes and enjoyed the singular sensations of her three naked best friends—including her twin sister—eagerly lapping at her own clean, tight, preteen asshole with wet, warm tongues. Lapping and licking.

Triple ice creaming her err-err.

Lissa finally came around and decided to switch it up. She took her thumb out of her mouth with a wet kissy sound.

“Now...” she said, and the three girls pulled away from their work to hear the next want.

“Now... ‘kay. I want, um, double ice cream on my meow-meow and Becca, um, helpy err-err.” The girls shifted their places and Christa put her hand on Lissa’s thigh to push it back so she and Missa could get in where they needed to get. Those two began giving similarly large licks to Lissa’s pussy, and Becca did her own assigned job: jamming her tongue as far as it could go into Lissa’s extremely small, tight asshole, then wriggling her tongue around in circles.

Lissa couldn’t help herself. She let out a long, low groan of little girl pleasure as Becca’s 12-year-old tongue pushed into her tight 10-year-old asshole. The three other girls emitted a kind of response moan of pleased sexual laughter from their open mouths. Lissa then did what she had seen Becca do: she took both of her own oily little titties in her slick hands and began to grab and squeeze what she could, not that there was much there. Not like Becca’s.

More time passed. She wanted Becca now—she always wanted Becca first. Something about her big lips and maybe something to do with her age.

“Becca lala,” Lissa said under a moan. “Becca lala and—ummmhhnggg... Missa helpy err-err.”

She kept her eyes closed as the tongue slid out of her asshole and the weights of little girls on the bed switched around to their new positions.

Becca did something unexpected. She straddled Lissa’s side and put her hands out on either side of Lissa’s head before she did her new job: making out with Lissa with the intense sexual ferocity only preteen girls are capable of. Becca grinded her pussy on Lissa’s side and pressed her hanging, swaying little pubescent boobies into Lissa’s upper arm. This was typical Becca, always getting her own pussy and titties involved in things if she could. They ate each other’s mouths, and Lissa’s tongue swirled against the tongue that had just come out of her own asshole.

Meanwhile, Christa kept lapping at Lissa’s pussy and Missa crawled around her to push her own tongue into Lissa’s asshole, that job being Missa’s own naughty invention after all. Her strong tongue plunged much farther into her twin sister’s asshole than Becca’s tongue could, and she made a strained “nnnngggghhh” sound to force it in even more. 

After a while, Christa whipped her hair back behind her to get it out of the way of her pussy-eating, and took a moment to ask Lissa a question.

“Was it awesome?”

Lissa came flying back into her body from preteen lesbian sexual heaven and her eyes lit up. She disengaged her tongue from far back in Becca’s big middle-school mouth and unlocked their lips—not the easiest things ever—then came alive.

“You guys have to try it!”

As Princess, she could always get back to this wonderful place later. It was in Lissa’s heart to share things with the people she loved. They all had to get a taste. And she had to get a taste of all of them. It could not wait.

“Oh my god, I want Missa to get triple ice cream on her err-err,” she said.

“Hey—holy jeeze!” Becca said. “Hello? Music?”

“What the heck—” Christy said. How could they have forgotten the music?

As the whole mass of bodies repositioned so Missa was on her side and the other girls were under her asshole, Becca scrambled off of her bed to turn on the Bluetooth speaker and fetch her phone. She opened Spotify and found their playlist—all the Kids Bop albums up to then—then hit shuffle. She also grabbed some hair ties and handed them out to the others. The girls all tied their hair back tight so it wouldn’t get in the way for the rest of practice—the mention of music told them all that it was now time to really fuck.

The first song that played was ‘Bad Blood.’ As Becca hopped back into her position at Missa’s ass, they all started rocking a little to the beat. They got on hands and knees and got to work slurping and licking Missa’s asshole.

Missa was a different animal entirely. She immediately began wildly sucking both thumbs at the same time with feverish hunger. She gyrated her ass into their tongues, grunting loud “ungggghh” grunts from her throat like she was trying to lift something really heavy. They were all quite used to her crazy sex noises by now, Lissa especially—Missa had been like that for a year or so now.

Lissa lifted her head out of her twin sister’s ass to say something. She was no longer a nervous Princess.

“Christa, can you push Missa’s meow-meow but keep doing ice creams?”

“Ohkaah,” Christa said with her tongue still hanging out. She paused her licking, then reached one hand down to her own pussy. Christa’s undeveloped flat pussy was somehow always absolutely soaked with oil and other juice. She got her fingers lubricated in it as much as she could, then brought them back up and fit her index finger into Missa’s dark pussy, deep into Missa’s vagina. She began pumping in and out, slightly curling it up like Becca had figured out, then tried to return to licking Missa’s asshole. It sort of worked out, but that was a lot of coordination to ask of a little girl going into 5th grade in two months. She half-did both things.

Missa didn’t mind.

The song changed quickly, as songs always seem to do when you’re having great preteen sex. The girls’ rocking-and-licking rhythm (and Christa’s fingering rhythm) changed with it. The song was ‘Roar,’ and when the chorus came the three girls licking Missa’s asshole began trying to sing along with it while their tongues kept working. This often happened—little girls can’t help themselves in the presence of a great chorus. Missa just kept sucking her thumbs and grinding her ass harder and harder against their big, long licks, grunting and—yes—roaring.

They went on with practice for nearly two hours, licking and eating and fingering and grinding, sliding and pressing their little bodies together and changing positions—fucking each other’s brains out. Lissa took charge—it turned out she was a really great Princess, almost as good as her crazy sister. They fucked and fucked all over the room, most of the time as a foursome but sometimes breaking into couples. Eventually the Princess finally came, then one by one Lissa directed their energy into giving each of her Ladies jarring, bucking orgasms.

They layed there after it was over, on a bed soaked in coconut oil, slobber, sweat and little girl pussy juice. A bed littered with spent, gasping, naked children in post-sex mind-fog. A bed full of little girls who loved fucking other little girls.

When they caught their breath, they talked in low tones about what parts they had really loved, and everyone agreed that Lissa’s first want had been super cool. It would become a go-to want for any Princess. They gave her lazy high-fives over their prone bodies and talked about how great she was all-around as Princess.

Becca made sure Terri was still blasting whatever it was in her bedroom before they all scampered into the big second floor bathroom. With the door shut, they all got shower caps on and took a shower together in the gigantic party shower. They each got wet, then stepped out of the water. Just like before practice, the Ladies soaped each other first. When they were all soaped up, they used whatever remaining energy their quivering, weak bodies had left inside to press themselves against Lissa. It was the Ladies’ job to fully soap the Princess, without using their hands if they could.

When Lissa’s gorgeous dark body was good and lathered like theirs, Lissa felt a brief second wind of horniness surge down in her throbbing pussy. She gave what she thought would be her last want. It wasn’t asking much.

“I want Becca and Christa to do lala and me and Missa to do it.”

In the floating mist of the hot shower, their short preteen bodies soaped and slippery and warm, Becca and Christa squeezed together chest to chest and began making out, their tongues dancing together and their lips sucking and working—just how they liked it. Lissa and her twin sister Missa did the same, just harder (and noisier). By this point in the summer the four girls were experts at deep, invasive mouth-eating, and they did it to each other for almost 10 minutes.

Lissa had another idea at the end. Out of the hot, soapy blue it just popped into her mind. Two fantastic inventions in one day.

“Now I want—okay, ready?” This got their attention, and all three of her Ladies looked at the Princess with curiosity in their eyes.

“I want ring-pop lala,” she said.

They looked around—what? They knew what ring-pop meant, and they knew what lala meant, but Ring-pop lala? That was like saying ‘Car table.’ It didn’t make sense. Yet.

“Uhhh,” Becca said. Christa scratched her head.

“Watch,” Lissa said.

Lissa, supremely confident with this new one, grabbed her sister’s head by the back of her skull with both hands (like she had seen on Jack and Gab’s YouTube channel) and leaned in.

“Open,” she said, “and givey Princess tonguey.”

Missa obediently opened her mouth to the Princess and stuck her tongue out as far as it could go. Lissa tenderly closed her lips around Missa’s tongue and began sucking on it, going up and down, sucking and sucking. Missa’s eyes flew open at this amazing new thing and waved her arms up and down like a bird. It was awesome, and she was freaking out.

“Oh,” Becca said. “Okay.”

She turned to face Christa. Lissa hadn’t given the two of them a want, but Becca threw herself into it anyway—Lissa was busy. She lowered her jaw all the way and stuck her tongue out. Christa bent in and began sucking with her little girl lips, and Becca disappeared into a spiritual journey far, far away in the land of child ecstasy.

It was good. It was really good.

They sucked each other’s tongues for another 10 or 12 minutes, then turned the shower off. They toweled themselves off in tired silence and slunk down to the basement movie theater at Missa’s suggestion. These little girls were all orgasmed out for the night—they needed rest. In the wide dark movie theater room in the cool basement, under a big blanket on the cushy movie theater seats, they cuddled, ate candy, drank a ton of water and watched Finding Dory. They hardly talked.

After a half hour, exhausted for any number of reasons, Lissa fell into a deep, deep sleep on her sister’s shoulder. 

The rest of them didn’t make it much longer.


End file.
